girl back then.

When I was younger I stood in the mirror and wondered who the girl was staring back at me

I questioned the color of my skin and if it was the reason I didn’t fit in

I told myself that I’d tell those who deemed me undeserving that I hate my skin too

And maybe then I’d be cool enough to be picked first

Or at least getting picked last wouldn’t hurt as much

And maybe if I drew straight lines on my skin I’d appear to be straight too

Because being black and bisexual is a death sentence I can’t complete

Do they make keys strong enough to keep the part of me that wanders locked away

What do I say when they question my silence

What shade of eyeshadow would hide my crying

There isn’t a dictionary big enough to help me find a phrase to accessorize my uncertainties

And quite frankly I’m done trying

If I could talk to that girl back then

I’d tell her to love the color of her skin

To hell with the judgements of those who’ve never stood trial

And never to hide from who she is within

poetically viewed

i tend to avoid eye contact because of the extra hours my eyes put in

as if employee of the month was its birthright

there is no simplicity in having different views

the stars have never easily aligned

two days ago we passed a street and you noticed an empty field
well not that empty--it had become home for the remnants of what used to be
and then you said to me that it was horrible to leave such a sight on display
and then you questioned my face and why it appeared as if i disagreed
well o yes, indeed. you do know me so well
that very same spot is where a home stood right before it fell
if you silence your disgust you'd hear the memories calling out to you
listen to the floorboards squeak as it hid footsteps walking in past curfew
the arguments that kept us up
and the apologies we all slept through
that bag of bones once had love coursing through its veins
one mans trash poetically viewed will always be another mans treasure


where most turn to ashes

her fire is where i am the warmest

the uncontrollable flame that

ignites all that i feel

hot to touch but not too much

there is not a match that can

be compared to her flame

she devours her own embers

only to be reborn again

better and brighter with each stroke

her inferno ran through my city

with no second thought

leaving no time for second guesses

burn for her or burn with her

regardless she will always be

her own hot spot

and i will always want to

swim in her sea of flames

mask off.

and all this time the smoke screen i stood behind
you never knew existed
you held me in your arms and the smile i wore drifted
and for the first time ever, the oceans that lived in my eyes pushed out streams that flowed down my cheeks

my knees grew weak
love dressed up as a spell
and suddenly i am compelled to be nothing other than me
i am not who you think i am
is this face still worthy of you
unmasked and riddled with imperfection
and on some days, depression
now that you see me
do you see me

a door.

frames sealed shut by words meant to hurt
there are no apologies that will loosen these hinges
there is no forgiveness that could open these locks
no passageway
no entrance

sealed shut this door will remain
for opening it undoes nothing but the sacrifices i gave to close it in the first place
words were the weapon you kept ready in your holster
and i no longer look good in a bulletproof vest
so no thanks but i have no interest in seeing what lies behind door number two


my worst enemy lives in the shadow box on the wall
i show her who i am and no sooner is she showing me who i want to be
never good enough for the shadow box

i use her for guidance on how to dress my wounds
only to watch her undress them
she finds humility in leaving them open
reminds her that pain is real
unlike a shadow, when the lights are turned off, pain does not disappear